#striplighting

[bluehopper]

commercial strip lighting

What would you say is your outer look of business?

strip lighting, right? let me introduce you to some of the best commercial strip lighting to illuminate your place with lots of color & increase the vibe of the place.

[manover40inlove]

Home Bar Single Wall in Auckland Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary single-wall wet bar remodel with a medium tone wood floor and beige floor, as well as a drop-in sink, glass-front cabinets, black cabinets, and marble countertops.

[charleytakeabow]

Contemporary Home Bar Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary single-wall wet bar remodel with a medium-tone wood floor and beige floor. The remodel will include glass-front cabinets, black cabinets, a drop-in sink, and black cabinets with marble countertops.

[qveen-brallie]

Home Bar Single Wall in Auckland Inspiration for a mid-sized contemporary single-wall wet bar remodel with a medium tone wood floor and beige floor, as well as a drop-in sink, glass-front cabinets, black cabinets, and marble countertops.

[lumberfurniture]

Gorgeous photo from our client Melissa of her #americanoak #floatingshelves with #striplighting Thank you for this lovely photo it looks gorgeous (at Moorabbin, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmdozL8LmuO/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[closetclutterfix]

5 Creative Lighting Solutions for Your Small Closet Enhancing your closet with effective illumination can significantly improve its functionality and visual appeal. Whether you have a modest wardrobe or a spacious walk-in, the right illumination can transform your space. This guide provides essential insights into selecting and

[widukind315]

[skbai0224]

Brighten Up Your Room: How to Choose the Right LED Strip Lights.

50ft Bluetooth LED Strip Lights, SMD5050 Music Sync LED Lights Strip，RGB Color Changing LED Lights with Remote, Smart Phone APP Control, LED Lights for Bedroom, TV, Room DIY (APP+Remote +Mic/50ftx1) Brighten Up Your Room How to Choose the Right LED Strip Lights LED strip lights are a fantastic way to add a touch of air and illumination to any room. They come in a variety of colors, styles, and…

[coreslighting]

Neon strip light flexible strips

[bernhard-haug]

Einen schönen Mittwoch mit einer Bildserie der lieben @____carmenx3 in meinem Studio. Als Setting diente eine Betonwand. Als Lichtquelle zwei Studioblitze mit Striplight und Grid. . . #beauty #beautyshooting #modeling #medelshoot #betonwand #striplights #reutlingen #lingerie #blacklingerie #blacklingerieshoot #nikon #nikonphotography #reutlingen #bernhardhaug #fotografie #modelfotography #camera #fashionfoto #photooftheday #instagood #fun #shootingtime #fotoworkshop #studiophotoshoot (hier: Bernhard Haug Fotografie) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqF2t4KKub_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[clarolightsindia]

Check out the reasons why the led lights good investments. To know more you have to read on and you must also get the led lights for room, led strip lights, led ceiling lights.

[cabezadeperro]

kiss prompt: 🧡 dealer's choice, star wars

hiiiii!!

i went with codex, with the inquisitor rex au, because apparently i haven't had enough. T, ~640w.

---

Tinny music, crackly and too loud. Rex grumbles into his thin pillow, shifts in his bed, tries to fall back asleep. Someone curses, and the noise stops; Rex sighs and relaxes, his limbs heavy. 

He’s well on his way to actually falling back asleep when he remembers why he shouldn’t.

The bunk room is small and bare. Rex blinks in the dark and sits up on the narrow cot, shivering in the cold. Cody’s armour stares back from the blankets, the black plasteel reflecting the light from the emergency striplights. The door is open just a crack, and a clean slash of white light cuts through the narrow room, shining on boots and undersuits and Rex’s lightsaber.

Rex stays there for long minutes, very still and very afraid, his heart beating very hard inside his chest. He’s safe: of this, he is certain. He can feel it in the air, in the Force, in his bones. He can’t quite believe it, can’t quite remember how or when that happened, not at first.

And then—Cody, across the ship, tired and focused on something and vaguely worried but… happy. Incandescently happy. He burns brighter and hotter than a star.

Rex lies back down, but he doesn’t fall asleep. It’s warm under the blankets, and the pillow smells like Cody, of his hair and his skin. Rex sighs and tries to breathe through the fear that lives in his chest.

The burns on his side complain every time he breathes in or out. First Fourteenth’s lightsaber and then the depot explosion, hot air and burning tibanna eating through body armour like they were flimsi. 

That will buy them some time. Vader will know he’s not dead, but Rex wants to think that he won’t—care enough. That he will be made to let him—them—go.

Cody’s coming back. Rex keeps his eyes closed and focuses on the sound of his footsteps on the ship’s creaky metal flooring, on the well-loved, well-known feeling of his mind. He steps into the bunk room and closes the door at his back once again, and then he sits on the edge of the bed to start unlacing his boots.

“Nav computer’s still working,” he says. Of course he knows Rex’s awake. “How’s your side?”

Rex sighs. He doesn’t open his eyes, but he reaches out until he can touch Cody. He’s not wearing a shirt or pants, just his underwear.

“Itchy,” he replies. “It’s fine.”

Cody hums. He slips under the blankets, and then there are arms around Rex, warm and heavy, Cody’s cold feet sliding between his. 

The cot is narrow, and the metal bulwark is cold against Rex’s back. He shifts closer to Cody and opens his eyes to Cody’s own. He’s watching Rex in the dark, the emergency lights reflected in his eyes. He still smells of the Empire’s harsh cleanser, but underneath Rex can almost find his own smell—warm skin, the smell of his hair. Rex closes his eyes again and kisses him, off-centre and clumsy. Cody smiles under his mouth.

He’s so warm. Rex shifts until he can place his head under his chin, tucks his nose in the hollow of his throat, Cody’s heartbeat quick but steady under his lips. He can feel it against his own chest when Cody sighs shakily, and then there’s a hand on the back of his head, rubbing at the buzzed hair with careful fingers.

This can’t last. If not Vader, someone else will find them. Rex stretches out his senses, Cody like an anchor back to his body: he reaches out to the galaxy, and the Dark reaches back.

Dry lips on his forehead.

“I have you,” Cody mumbles. He’s half-asleep.

Rex returns to himself, to his aches and to his fears, to a shared bed on a stolen shuttle.

Yeah. Yeah, he does.

[alovelyburn]

Day 8232....

It's starting to come together actually. The display as of RIGHT NOW is unlit because i ordered striplights fuck spotlights. and the specifics of each display will change as more of my preorders come in and more of the cases get built but AS OF RIGHT NOW....

The centerpiece of the collection for now, a 1:3 Prime1 Guts. HE'S THREE FEET TALL. THE MAN IS HUGE. Anyway.

A life and times of Guts display. This one is definitely going to change, like I'd rather have the 100 man statue alone but until i build more cases I can't. so for now he gets to be the centerpiece of a whole thing about Guts' experiences and problems. Details:

Please ignore my beverage collection. I like the idea of this statue but I might need to get a new one done because it annoys me that the bangs didn't come out and that the painter made him so light skinned. But for now here it is.

The Golden Age Plus display, aka Figma and Art of War showcase:

Since I put the Figma Femto up front with the Gutses and Casca I swapped him out for the Art of War statue in the back. Appropriate since it's a moment from the Eclipse.

Eventually I want to do a Post-Eclipse display and then Femto and Berserker Guts can move over there, which will make Casca stand out less HAHA RIGHT NOW SHE'S A BIT OF AN ODD ONE OUT but I don't have all the stuff I need for that yet.

Edit: It wasn't obvious that Judeau has a Hawks flag, haha.

And of course, Griffith remains as he was:

So, I have one (already built) case left to fill, and I have one more Prime1 statue (for now), but I only have two ThreeZero Guts figures, two banpresto figures and this nose demon:

So the next one will be sort of random until I have more figures and more cases to start theming more accurately.

But yes for now, that is my update.

[fateheartblog]

Home - Sobfest Starless Sea event

My submission for @thehauntedair 's September sobfest fic event - making Dorian cry.

This one is, as ever, contingent upon the Fateheart timeline. Sorry about it (but not really). Also I have not even slightly read this for typos.

And it's way too long, but oh well. Dorian cries and gets hugged about it. It's a good time.

-

Home

Dorian stands up.

He sees in the window panels the faces that look to him. He sees his own. The Tokyo night beyond it is startling as it sharpens into focus. A galaxy rendered closer by attention. A star mess he is lost in, standing at the far side of the table.

The room has fallen silent.

“I have to go.”

They glance at each other. The conversation has been long and tense. The hours just as long. Empty coffee cups are little satellite dishes amongst the papers and scrawled suggestions about how to move forwards. But without the town planning information they don’t stand a chance of solving this this evening.

And he’s tired.

Shever has stood as well. “Can I assist you?”

“No, you’re alright. Is Leander still here?”

She stands down at a lift of his hand.

“Yes,” offers Farne. “He’s gone up to a room. He wanted to stay so if he was needed in the morning he’d be on hand.”

Dorian nods, thanks them, ends the meeting, leaves, climbs the stairs, makes eye contact, does not make eye contact. Wonders, amongst those littering stars and the Tokyo striplights, what is wrong.

He’s not sure. But that in itself feels wrong.

Knowing himself is half the battle. Standing firm in the centre of this maelstrom is so much of the winning. Anchorage in the face of all kinds of weather. These people - his people - who drift in the sky, catching the turbulence and following it, reporting it back to him. All tied to him.

Being ‘not sure’ can be the death of so many things. Certainty.

He is walking quickly down the corridor. He is high above the world. He has a signet ring on his left hand bearing the embossed face of an owl - sharp lines, barely signifying a creature. More of a symbol than an image. A crown etched above it. Eyes perfectly open. Sight unclouded. Sure.

The room unlocks at the touch of the ring, as all of them do. A key as well as a crown. Hidden at the heart of the owl there. A heart as well as a feather.

The symbols dance around his head in the dark.

He crouches by the bed.

“Leander.”

Leander jolts awake, turning to stare at him. He pushes himself up quickly.

“Dorian - is everything okay?”

“Sorry to wake you. There’s no emergency, it’s okay.” He lets Leander blink a few times. The light from the corridor has made a landing strip across the blanket. The room would be spartan and miserable but for the presence of a dear friend and a shelf of books. “I’m leaving. I’m going back to the Harbour. Just… just for tonight. For now. Possibly tomorrow as well. To be honest, we’re not getting anywhere with the municipal office in the foreseeable future anyway, and all the Owls assure me the consequences of going ahead without permission would be considerably more dire than waiting.” Dorian sighs and stands up again, looking out to the landing.

The light out there does not seem as bright as it does once it has fallen in here. Or maybe it is because here there is darkness to cut through.

“That’s fair. I thought it might take a few days. Happy to stay, if you need me.”

“That would be helpful, if that’s okay,” Dorian answers without turning back.

Silence.

“Dorian, has something happened?”

Dorian does not answer. He does not turn.

“Do you ever…” The crown, the heart, the feather. A faint buzzing. Some kind of story. A sword upon his chest. A key above his heart. A heart that gives a crown. A crown upon a feather. Dorian looks back at Leander in the darkness. “Do you ever feel all of a sudden that you’re in the wrong place? That there’s a place you are supposed to be - absolutely and unequivocally. And you have to be there. No matter what. No matter why.”

Leander looks at him for a long minute. “Yes.”

Dorian nods. “I have to go home. Right now.”

“Is Zachary okay?”

“Yes. Well, I’m assuming so. I haven’t… I haven’t called him yet.”

“Right. Are you okay?”

This is much harder to answer. Dorian looks back at him, feeling the answer with some difficulty. Because he’s not sure why.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Leander says, and after a brief pause he shuffles out of the bed, leaning over and turning on a lamp with a touch of a stump. Dorian takes a step back in the light.

“I don’t know… what’s wrong. I’m not sure.”

Leander looks him up and down, his hair tousled, eyes puffy with sleep. “Does there have to be a reason? Sometimes you just get homesick. That’s fair. It’s been an exhausting few days and I was only here for two of them.”

Dorian frowns.

“Do you need me to get up and like, be functional?”

“No. You can go back to sleep. I just wanted you to know what you’d be waking up to. And to ask - if anything happens, call me immediately. Please.”

Leander nods and falls back onto the bed.

“Gotcha. Go home, Dorian. Take a breather. Sounds good.” He is asleep again before Dorian has closed the door behind him.

He does not call Zachary as he descends the stairway, fourteen floors through the hotel. He does not call Zachary as he debriefs Shever in the lobby and pulls his coat on. He does not call Zachary as he walks out into the night, moving swiftly through the people and the lights and the stars the stars the stars.

And then he’s sat on a train, heading away from all those stars. And the phone is in his hand, and he cannot work out why he is hesitating.The last train out of Tokyo that night is quite empty. One man further down is reading a book. A trio of teenagers are talking quietly in the stark carriage lighting.

It takes him nearly forty miles to dial the number.

He doesn’t answer the first time.

He does answer the second time.

“Hello?”

“Hey. Hey, Zachary. It’s me. Hey.” He stares out of the window. Instinctively turning his head away from the carriage, hiding his mouth. At such an angle that even in the reflection his words can’t be read on his lips.

“Oh hey! Dorian. Hi. You okay?”

He stares at his own face in the darkness. Old instincts, an old restlessness. Running.

“Dorian?”

“I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh no - has something - I’m - hang on - what’s happened - I can-”

“No, no, nothing’s happened. I’m okay. Stay where you are, my love. I…”

“No, I’ll come, it’s okay-”

“No, you don’t need to. I’m coming home. I’m - I’m on my way back now.”

“You… you are?”

“Yeah. I’ll be, um, an hour or two. Probably closer to two, actually. I’ll keep you updated.”

“O-okay. You’re coming home?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh Dorian.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Dorian tips his head a little, hiding from the world. Unseen, unnoticed in the darkness and the harsh white of the train carriage lights. The starscape that ricochets by is bitingly cold against his forehead. The darkness is sheer glass and chill but at least there are stars. At least there are stars.

“Could you-” His voice breaks. He shuffles a little further down in his seat. “Could you say that again?”

“I love you,” Zachary says immediately.

Dorian closes his eyes. “I love you too,” he says into the phone, and something hurtles past. An unfamiliar city. Well, not quite true. He’s lived here. He’s lived so many places. If you could call it living. One all too familiar city out of many. One train out of thousands. One fractured existence over decades of loneliness.

“I love you,” he is saying again. And again and again. “Come home for a night. Let me look after you. You said… you said it’s been going badly. Are you just… has something happened, Dorian?”

The train window is sheer cold and hard, unforgiving vibration against his head. The train carriage smells of city and breath and fatigue and it makes him so, so tired. So many lifetimes spent on trains. So many cities.

“No,” he clears his throat. “I don’t… I couldn’t even tell you, really.”

The pause is only a moment.

“Oh, Dorian.”

He knows he’s crying. Zachary can always tell. Even though Dorian himself could barely tell. Could barely have said why.

Leander’s voice comes back to him, rattling beneath the seats the way the metal panels do as the train takes him home. Sometimes you just get homesick.

He opens his eyes, which lets loose a few more tears. He sits back a little, keeping his breathing steady, though the crying is steadier.

“Something about being in Japan,” he says eventually. Hiding his mouth with the hand which holds the phone. Just an instinct. An automatic one - to hide himself, his speech, his voice. To press against that cold hard darkness as the stars slip by.

“You spent quite a lot of time there, didn’t you?”

Dorian can hear that Zachary is moving. He hasn’t asked where he is. The phone works underground now - he’s probably in the Harbour somewhere. He can hear background music possibly but that doesn’t mean he’s at home.

Home.

“I did, yeah. But that’s not bothered me so much before. I think… I realised after today. You know it’s been difficult. The whole prefecture is in Sinjuin’s pocket. We got nowhere with it today. And I was just… I was sitting there-” Dorian breaks off as that feeling from the conference room washes through him again.

He leans back into the seat, but his chest has constricted.

He wishes he wasn’t on a train. He wishes his husband was with him, to catch this, to understand him, to help his breathing ease.

He wishes he wasn’t in public. Out in a world he trained hard for years never to trust. A world he has learnt to navigate in darkness.

He wishes he was home.

“I love you,” Zachary says again, and his chest loosens enough for him to talk through the tears.

“I realised, Zachary. I realised I wanted - I wanted to go home. And that’s - sometimes when I’m - I don’t always - I don’t usually-” It is difficult to find the words. It is difficult to do anything but cry.

“Oh, my Dorian. I’m sorry. I love you. So, so much.”

Zachary sits with him in the silence. A world away. A home, waiting for him. A home to go back to. Something he has never had before.

Eventually he manages to talk.

“I realised I had a place to long for. I realised I was homesick. And so… I wanted to come home.”

He ends in a whisper. He hears Zachary let out a long breath.

“I’m gonna come up to the cave. I’ll come wait for you by the door, yeah? We can - we can do something fun this evening, if you - wait, it’s the middle of the night for you, isn’t it? Well-”

“You don’t need to come wait for me, Zachary, I-”

“But I want to.”

Dorian finds himself laughing at the slightly put-out tone in his husband’s voice. And it doesn’t stop him crying. In fact it compounds it into something that might be hiccups. 

Which quiet down back into gentle crying as the train and the night and the aching for home stretches on.

He nearly falls asleep. Zachary stays on the phone with him for a bit until the battery protests. But by that time he is nearly home. 

Nearly home.

He had managed to persuade Zachary not to come sit in the entrance hall, though he is half-expecting to see him there when he opens the door. The cave is cold, but the two women passing outwards into the world beam at him. And the elevator moves smoothly. And the air is warm and soothing and tastes of lemongrass and honey and a little bit of blossom and apple and wood.

And the chamber doors open to the warm golden glow of the Starless Sea. And he is being greeted by several voices in the entrance way. And there is his husband.

Dorian takes a deep breath as Zachary closes his book and rises from a bench in the alcove.

He slips an arm around him, but he is looking out at the honey. That deep wave of a strange, pulling ache breaks upon the shore of his home.

“Hey. Hey, Dorian. Welcome home.”

He stands beneath the constellations of the vaulted antechamber and holds his husband.

Dorian feels so many things ease from his constricted ribs, his hurting, releasing heart, in Zachary’s arms.

He pulls back, looking over his face.

“You okay?”

Dorian smiles. Tears are pricking again, but they feel a little more like relief now.

“Oh yes,” he murmurs, and brings his lips to his for a slow, long kiss. “I’m home.”

fin.

[wellthatsclever]

⚠️ Warning to Leopard gecko parents: watch out for coil UVB bulbs. I was using one for my gecks and noticed my tangerine morph started shedding excessively. I just put 2and2 together and realized she's probably doing it because the concentration of light is too intense. I feel horrible. I've removed the bulb and will go back to square one by supplementing with D³Calc instead until I research more about the hood striplight UVB.

[good-chimes]

he is a moss creature who has burrowed his way into a temple. he sells enormous amounts of dubiously sourced moss. he put a despot in power. he is carrying on at least four affairs. he has a little bed with a striplight and the world’s hugest smile. everything about s9 bdubs is perfect. i want to encase him in amber for three million years.